


Daze

by INMH



Series: Merry Month of Masturbation Fills (2017) [22]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Drugs, Dubiously consensual exhibitionism, In Public, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Sexual Content, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-01 23:12:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10931991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Arno is regretting attending the Marquis’s mad little party.





	Daze

“What the _Christ_ did you give me, you lunatic?”  
  
The Marquis grins down at him, and for a moment there appears to be two of him. When he chuckles, it sounds very far away.  
  
Arno squints, trying to focus, but everything spins.  
  
“Just something to help you get into the festivities, my dear.”  
  
Arno is lying on a set of cushions, but he still has the strange feeling that he’s teetering, _falling_ , and it’s a strange and unnerving feeling. His center of gravity is nowhere to be found.  
  
So he shuts his eyes.  
  
He’s too hot. There’s a strange itch in his skin, and Arno has a mad thought: That he might shed it entirely, like a snake, and be comfortable again. He’s tingling all over, but especially in his chest and his groin.  
  
Arno opens his eyes again. Not especially because he wants to, but because he can’t seem to keep them closed.  
  
The room is packed with people, and they seemed doubled by the fact that they _blur_ as they move, so by Arno’s view, every single piece of the room is occupied by someone or something, and for a terrifying moment he thinks he may be crushed by them.  
  
Their noises are loud and discordant and some are flirting and some are fucking, and someone in the corner might be doing something very _wrong_ to a pig-  
  
_I’m going mad_.  
  
His mind drifts off, like a piece of paper in the wind.  
  
The heat and the itch persist, and Arno squirms, desperate to be rid of it.  
  
So he sheds. He pulls his skin away from his muscle and bones, pushes it down and out of the way, and finally the itch reduces and he lies cooler and calmer on the cushions again.  
  
But that damnable _tingle_ remains.  
  
Arno runs his hands up and down his chest, and when they brush his nipples, he gasps. The tingle is worse, but it’s a _good_ sort of worse, and so he rubs his thighs, and that feels even better.  
  
So then Arno puts his hands on his cock.  
  
Which, he abruptly realizes, is not in his pants anymore.  
  
Because his pants aren’t there anymore, and neither are the rest of his clothes. He’s stark-naked on the cushions, with his cock half-hard in his hand and his Assassin’s robes strewn around him.  
  
His cock pulses in his hands, and it’s getting harder, and Arno can’t bring himself to give a shit about what’s happening right now, if he’s being honest. He can think of nothing else but to keep touching himself with clumsy strokes and tugs, wincing and gasping at the friction until enough pre-come has leaked out to allow for decent lubrication.  
  
Maybe he moans.  
  
Maybe he says things.  
  
Maybe he gasps things into a room that’s too loud to hear him as his cock grows long and hard under his attention and bobs between his legs expectantly. Despite the intensity of what he feels, Arno momentarily lets go of himself, stares blankly at his cock as it stands proudly at attention, waiting for more.  
  
Arno groans. He wants so very many things in that moment, things he couldn’t coherently name if you’d asked him to, and all of those things would serve to help him come.  
  
His hands find his cock again after a moment of mindless waving, and his movements are harder and rougher than they were before. They hurt, and Arno whimpers, but the pain mixes seductively with the pleasure and spurs him on, jerks him closer and closer to the edge of the precipice he so badly wants to dive off of.  
  
“Goodness, goodness,” Someone says. “Aren’t you randy?”  
  
Arno chokes, gasps, squeezes his balls with one hand and his cock with the other, and then comes all over himself. Some lands on the edge of his lip.  
  
And then he blacks out.  
  
(He comes to an hour later with a splitting headache and a naked woman lying across his chest, and as he furiously gathers his clothing the Marquis just laughs and laugh and laughs away.)  
  
-End


End file.
